


starblossom

by skatzaa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan Ascendancy Contention, Arranged Marriage, F/M, POV Bail Organa, Political Alliances, pulmonodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: This time, when he scans the valley, his eyes catch and hold on an orange glow moving at a brisk pace across the land. He stares, befuddled, until the glow resolves itself into a woman striding purposefully through the grass. Bail watches her move, her simple pants and tunic taking nothing away from the dignity of her posture. It isn’t until he sees her hair, done up in a braid crown to keep it out of her way, that he realizes who she is.The crown princess of Alderaan isn’t known for traipsing across random valleys, especially after her accident, or so he’s heard. Apparently those rumors were wrong, as they often are.





	starblossom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersnake/gifts).



> Bittersnake, I hope you enjoy this! Breha is the queen of my heart and your prompt for them was simply too good to resist <3 This is inspired by Prescott Valley in Arizona rather than any moorlands, but I hope it's to your liking, and I hope that you enjoy it!
> 
> I don't fully understand how Alderaan's government is set up, despite an unholy amount of time spent on Wookieepedia, so I fudged some stuff. If anything is blatantly wrong, please feel free to point it out and I'll be happy to fix it!

Despite being an heir of the house of Organa, Bail grows up in the mountains surrounding the capital city. They are close enough to Aldera that they can easily get anything not available in the nearby town, but far enough that, for most of Bail’s childhood, the politics of the court were little more than a school lesson, for all that he’ll have to know them intimately some day. His parents make a point to send him to Aldera several times a year but they are hated trips; he has to sit still for hours on end, in overly stiff formal clothing, and pretend to be interested in whatever the latest issue might be.

He enjoys his studies, as a child—excels at them, truly, and anything else he puts his mind to—Bail’s favorite way to spend his time is out in the foothills, hunkering down in a quiet spot with a datapad or picking his way through unexplored areas.

The older he gets, the more time his parents expect him to spend in Aldera, first shadowing one uncle or another and then at university. He enjoys school more than the lessons in interpersonal dynamics that his relatives think they’re teaching him, at least. And then he becomes the junior legislator for Alderaan, so he’s off to Coruscant for weeks at a time, trying not to choke on the polluted air. But whenever he can get a few days away from it all, he goes back to the mountains and valleys and just walks.

The autumn of the year the ascension conflict explodes, he whisks himself away to his childhood home. It’s different now, of course: his sisters have either married or are off working in different regions of the planet, and his parents have moved to an apartment close to the palace, where his father lived before they were married. They say it’s because they don’t want to be out in the middle of the wilderness again—though the estate is hardly  _ isolated _ —but Bail knows it’s truly because they feel the need to support the rest of their house in this battle.

Bail finds it all exhausting, really. He has trained in planetary and galactic politics all his life—acting as the junior legislator taught him much, including the fact that beings everywhere fall prey to corruption regularly; thankfully he won’t be asked to campaign as Senator for several more years. That doesn’t mean he  _ likes _ the bickering. If he’s not careful, being caught between the Antilles and Organas for too much longer will drive him to drink more than is recommended for his health.

The morning after he arrives, Bail wakes before dawn to the sound of birds outside his window, so different from the bustle of Aldera and the constant chaos of Coruscant. He eats a small breakfast on the patio overlooking the distant city, dons clothes suitable for the day, and then he climbs up into the mountains.

Once, when he was twelve, Bail climbed up instead of down, and discovered for the first time of one the many valleys cradled between the peaks. He spent the day running through the tall grass, delighted by this new world, and when he had returned to the estate long after sunset his parents forbade him from ever returning to the valley.

He followed that rule, for the most part, as a child, but now he’s free to do as he pleases, no matter how much control his parents seem to think he has over his life. So Bail climbs up, and crests the ridge into the valley just as the sun rises over the peaks in the far east. The light is bright and clear, and catches on the mist and the frost that blankets the bleached grass. It looks as though the valley has been draped in sparkling jewels. The few trees have already turned from green to a deep gold, this late in the season, and they look like flames in the distance. The world has become beautiful and ethereal and something entirely new.

Bail stays on the top of the ridge, staring out. He loves his planet dearly, but there is nothing he loves more than this sight. The fighting of the great houses seems to belong to another galaxy when he’s up here.

The Jedi are meant to make a decision today about who will inherit the viceroyalty. He takes a deep breath of the crisp mountain air and releases the anxiety surrounding that thought. What will be, will be. Whatever the Jedi decide, he’ll work to help his planet.

When he scans the valley again, his eyes catch and hold on an orange glow moving at a brisk pace across the land. He stares, bemused, until the glow resolves itself into a woman striding purposefully through the grass in his general direction, though her eyes are on the ground. Bail watches her walk, her simple pants and square-necked tunic taking nothing away from the dignity of her posture. It isn’t until he sees her hair, done up in a braid crown to keep it out of her way, that he realizes who she is.

The crown princess of Alderaan isn’t known for traipsing across random valleys, especially after her accident, or so he’s heard. Apparently those rumors were wrong, as they often are. It was the talk of the court when she decided to leave her pulmonodes in, and even close to a decade later those unhappy with the Antilles rule will bring it up as though it’s a juicy piece of gossip and not a simple fact. He guesses that’s what the glow is from.

Bail and Breha Antilles have met, of course, if only by virtue of their stations. She’s younger than him by seven years—no, eight. He remembers the celebration in town when she was born, and the way his sisters had bragged to him that the planet now had a princess instead of a prince. He doesn’t know much about her besides that and what’s made available to all of the galaxy, such as the fact that she hopes to be Minister of Education once she’s finished with the last of her post-graduate university work.

But to see her here, out of her elaborate gowns and traditional ribbon braids, hours from the palace, looking for all the galaxy that she grew from the valley floor is… intriguing.

Bail isn’t deaf to the rumors running amok in the great houses, these days. Talk of a political marriage has been circulating for months, and it's only worsened now that the Jedi have gotten involved. With the Organas the driving force behind the attempts to oust the Antilles as Viceroy, Bail is under no illusions as to who would be involved in such a marriage.

Princess Breha stops, suddenly, staring down at something hidden in the grass. She crouches down to view her prize better, smiling triumphantly. She reaches out and then stands, and despite the distance, Bail recognizes the object held carefully in her right hand: a red ladalum flower in full bloom. He didn’t know they could grow at this elevation, let alone be pollinated at this time of year. He certainly had never seen one himself in his adventures here in this valley.

Ladalums are rare, so much so that he knows there must be a good number of them growing in that spot for Breha to have taken one. He watches from the rise as she tucks the blossom into a pocket on the front of her shirt and then continues on her trek across the field. She never once looks up in his direction, but Bail watches her as she breaks into a steady run, never faltering, until she disappears from view back into the mist.

He climbs down into the valley until he reaches the spot where Breha stopped. He finds more than three dozen ladalum flowers scattered throughout the grass in various states of bloom, despite the cold. He crouches, dead plant matter crunching beneath his feet, and touches his fingertip to a delicate petal. 

Bail looks back up in the direction Breha ran, though she’s long gone. He feels something strange settling in his chest, almost like laughter, but lighter. Curiosity, maybe. He still doesn’t know much about the princess, but he finds he wants to know this woman who runs without hesitation through tall grassland and finds rare flowers by the armful—a fortune, even for royalty—yet only takes one. He thinks he wouldn't turn down an opportunity to do just that, no matter the circumstances.

He rises. With a final look to the west, he begins to walk to the northeast, curious to see if there are any other ladalums in the valley.

There aren't.

* * *

Bail isn’t surprised to see a message waiting on his comlink when he returns to the estate.

The Jedi have ruled in favor of the House of Organa; Bail is to become Viceroy. He is also formally engaged to Crown Princes Breha of the House of Antilles. The engagement is to be announced the following evening in Aldera, and Bail’s family expects him to be in attendance.

He arranges for transport and gathers his things. There’s no delaying the inevitable, he supposes. Plus, he needs to visit a reputable florist before they announce the engagement.

* * *

Bail straightens his cuffs once more, careful not to jostle the bouquet in his hands more than absolutely necessary. As the lower ranked member of the engagement, it’s his place to be presented to the princess and her family.

He hears his full title being called in the throne room, and so Bail takes a breath and strides through the curtain.

All of Aldera is waiting for him, or so it seems. Dressed in their finest, the members of the court and the citizens of the surrounding city stare at him and his flowers as he passes. They whisper Alderaani blessings, or words of encouragement, or prayers to the old god-of-braided-lives for luck.

Princess Breha waits for him on the dais where the thrones sit, her parents and younger sister behind her. Pearls have been strung in her hair and they drip down over her shoulders. The low neckline of her dress means the light from her pulmonodes catches on her collarbones and cheeks and turns the pearls to gold. The dress is a deep, wine-stained purple, rich next to the warm tone of her skin.

She looks radiant and self-possessed, and is undoubtedly the woman he saw in the valley yesterday morning.

Bail reaches the steps leading up to the dais and kneels. Someone, somewhere in the room, says the words that officially mark them as betrothed, but Bail is a million miles away. He stands when he is meant to and looks up.

Breha is already smiling at him, a small thing, easily missed if one is too far away.

“Your Highness,” Bail says, his voice surprisingly strong. He climbs the stairs until he stands before her. He hadn’t remembered her being so slight, the last time they met. “I offer but a humble gift, in addition to my hand and my heart.”

Breha reaches out and takes the bouquet. Her smile grows, encompassing wonder and delight.

It’s not an inexpensive gift, but it is small in comparison to some of the courting gifts offered in the past. One suitor even gave a queen a small moon, several millennia ago, to show how much she valued her as a wife. Bail’s sisters tried to talk him out of the flowers, suggested a more ostentatious gift instead, something fitting for a future queen, but he felt this was just right.

Red ladalums and yellow-orange flame-lilies, with small blue starblossoms that he picked from the palace’s lawns himself.

Breha meets his gaze.

“I accept your hand and your heart, and tie my life to yours, Bail Organa.” Her voice is smooth and powerful, perfect for the strength of her presence.

Bail takes her free hand and kisses the back of it twice, in the custom of the northern lands.

It’s not love. But as they turn the face the assembled crowds together, he thinks,  _ it could be. _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required <3


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